Love of Music
by Kagome1514
Summary: [AU] Christine is in her senior year in high school. Erik is the new accompanist. What happens when Christine begins taking music lessons from him? EC.
1. The Start of Senior Year

**A/N: Hello people who are as obsessed with The Phantom of the Opera(aka: POTO) as I am. :waves happily: I've come to join the wonderful phenomenon known as POTO fanfiction.**

**This is my first fanfic(under this genre) so I hope you guys will give me a shot. I'd appreciate some feedback on this. First of all, this is my first POTO fic. Second of all, no matter what fic you're writing it's always nice to get feedback. : ) **

**Oh, and if any of you happen to know/like the anime Inuyasha, please feel free to check out my already existing fics under that genre. : )**

**In short, I hope you all will be so kind as to read this fic and review. Thank you: ) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. I do, however, own the soundtrack and the official sheet music booklet. : ) **

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Love of Music

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1.The Start of Senior Year

The school bell rang loudly, ushering the mass of sleep-deprived students to their first class of the day with its shrill tone. There were the stragglers that ended up still walking across campus after the late bell rang, not caring if they were late on the first day of school. However, there was one exception.

A certain girl ran across campus, heading to her first class, not wanting to be late. Her soft brown curls bounced against her back as she ran; her clear blue eyes focused on her goal: her AP Calculus classroom. Unfortunately for her, she was late no matter how fast she ran. At least she wouldn't be too late if she ran.

She burst into the classroom, panting and out of breath, holding up a small slip of blue paper: her new schedule; the reason she was late. She looked up and found everyone staring at her.

The teacher, Mr. Marrant, smiled and said, "Welcome. Take a seat, Miss….." He took the slip and looked at her name, "….Daaé."

Someone snickered and said, "Way to go, Christine!"

Christine wasn't sure who said that but didn't really care. Instead, she did as Mr. Marrant wanted and took a seat. Unfortunately, the only seat left was the one directly in front of the overhead.

As she took out her needed materials, Christine thought bitterly, 'I wonder why this seat was free…..Oh well. It shouldn't be too bad.'

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((Switch to Christine's P.O.V))

For the rest of the period, I sat at my desk, miserably working on tonight's homework. Stupid teacher giving homework on the first day. Just because I am seemingly intelligent in math doesn't mean I enjoy doing it.

I sighed and worked the rest of the period on it, jealous at the fact that my best friend Meg Giry had opted for an easier class.

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It was now lunch-time. My face lit up with a smile as I chatted with Meg, holding my tray of food. We sat down on the grass, beneath the shade of a nearby tree, eating and laughing as we chatted about our new teachers. Thank God for second lunch. That means only two more periods to go.

Pretty soon the bell rang and we stood up, muttering about how we now had to go to our AP French class. Luckily, we are both strong in French. (Otherwise, we wouldn't be taking AP.)

We sat down near the front, setting our bags on the floor beside our desks. The teacher was at her desk, shuffling papers. As Meg and I sat talking, other students shuffled into the room.

Once everyone was seated, the teacher stepped out from behind the desk to the front of the room, walking smoothly across the short distance. As she did so, the class fell silent.

She had short blonde hair and startling blue eyes. She looked very European, in her face and in her style of dress. She wore khaki capris, beige flip-flops, and a three-quarter sleeve white shirt, a colorful scarf draped around her neck.

"_Bonjour, classe. Je m'appelle Madame Dupuis. Vous pouvez m'appeller "Madame". Je vais parler en français la majorité du temps. Je m'attends à ce que vous parliez en français dans ma classe. Seulement en français! Vous me comprenez?_"

The class gave a half-hearted, "_Oui_," in response, to which Madame rebuked, "_Oui, madame_!" The class repeated it and she nodded before saying, "_Bon! Alors, commençons_!"

So the basic gist of all that she just said was "Hello, class. My name is Madame Dupuis. You may call me "Madame". I am going to speak in French the majority of the time. I expect you to speak in French in my class. Only in French! Do you understand me?" Then she had, "Good! So, let's start!" At least I was able to understand her perfectly. I realized right then that she was the type of woman I could really like and could see myself talking with her a lot.

We spent the rest of period going over "_vocabulaire_". Simple review of the previous years. Very easy stuff.

The bell soon rang. Meg and I stood up, grinning excitedly at each other. Next period was choir: our favorite period. We quickly headed out of the room, heading to the choir room.

Meg entered before me and rushed over to a friend she hadn't seen in awhile, engaging in excited conversation with the girl, leaving me to enter by myself and survey the room.

It looked the same as always: tile floor with a set of wide risers that were more like wide, carpeted steps, rows of black chairs lined along each step.

In the front of the room, there was the piano and the whiteboard connected to the wall, little messages written across it. Things like, "Welcome back!" "We missed you!" "Hey Ashley! You are so talented! Glad to have you back :little heart drawn here: Jenny"

Many of the messages were the anonymous ones plainly saying, "Welcome back!" "We missed you!" "This year will be great!"

I turned my attention to viewing the other girls in the choir. Many were huddled in groups, hugging each other and chatting about their summers and asking the others what they did.

Meg, ever the social butterfly, went fluttering from group to group, immediately accepted into the conversations. Everyone was so busy talking in their groups that I was paid no attention. Sure, if I had walked over, they would begin talking to me, I knew that. However, I realized that I didn't want to be part of any conversations full of superficial things like boyfriends, who slept with whom and was now called "slut", newest hairdos and make-up styles. I had no interest in all of that.

I glanced around, the din of their chattering voices suddenly seeming to turn to silence as my mind focused inward. I didn't want to, it just happened. Back to the pain, the overwhelming grief. The feeling that I wanted to hide and cry and never face the world again.

Over the summer, I had gone on vacation to Florida with my father. We had had a fun time at the beach, and I even got many offers of dates (which I declined being I had never had a boyfriend. Which I guess is really sad being I'm eighteen now). We had been having a swimming competition in the water and he went out too far. I tried to reach him but couldn't. He had drowned, and I wasn't even able to get his body recovered. I had gone to a church and prayed for his soul, weeping out my sorrow. No one even knew. I hadn't told anyone yet.

In his will, my father had left every possession of his to me. I now owned the house (which had long since been paid off so I could now live there comfortably without worrying about paying anything for it) as well as all of the possessions within it. I would give it all up if I could just have him back.

The door opened, surprising me because the girls were already all here. Madame Giry (Meg's mother, as well as our choir instructor) was in her office. I turned, surprised at what I saw.

Walking in through the door was a rather tall man wearing black pants and a white button-up shirt. On his feet he wore shiny black shoes. He obviously cared about impression and took things seriously. He had short, brown hair and amazing blue eyes that seemed to bore into me. What surprised me the most was the skin-colored mask he wore on the right side of his face.

Our eyes were locked on each other, unable to break away. It still seemed as if the chatter all around us was pure silence, that nothing else was important than this feeling of electricity I felt between myself and this man. I can't even describe what the feeling was. Just this odd sense of knowing that my life had just taken a strange twist. I felt like there was something inside of me telling me that he would change my life forever.

I watched as the man seemed to take a hold of himself and ask, "Is this Madame Giry's choir room?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice, pushing my strange thoughts out of my mind.

He stood there for a moment, staring at me, at my eyes, before walking over and sitting down on the piano bench. I noticed now that he had a black bag which he set on the floor before straightening up and glancing around the room, taking it all in.

I noticed that his eyes settled on me again and I smiled slightly in greeting. Suddenly, Meg called, "Christine!" causing me to turn my head and look at her.

I grinned at her as she came running down to me from the third(highest up and last row) row, grabbing my hand excitedly and dragging me up to the third row, bragging to her group of friends that I was the best singer among all of them.

I blushed darkly and said, "Meg! I am not!"

Meg leaned forward and said, goading her group of friends, "I bet she sings better than all of you!"

I looked around and found everyone staring at us. I blushed, mortified.

A bunch of girls yelled, "Yeah right!"

Suddenly, girls started yelling, "Prove it!"

"Yeah! Prove it!"

"If you're so good, prove it!"

I turned on Meg and yelled, "Meg! Look at what you did!"

She grinned and said, "I haven't heard you sing since last year! Sing!"

I glared at her and said, "No. I don't have anything to sing."

Suddenly, a familiar voice called, "Ok, ladies! In your seats!"

I breathed a sigh of relief and hurried down to the front row, seating myself in the center, Meg sitting on my left.

We were both second sopranos. When we split into two parts instead of three, she was an alto while I was a first soprano.

I find that I love singing high notes. They make me feel like I can fly. I love how they are so pure and ring beautifully. When I'm singing, in general, I always feel like I'm flying.

Finding that all the girls were now sitting and still chatting, Madame Giry said sternly, "Girls! _Taisez-vous!"_

Confused, the girls all looked up, saying, "Huh?"

Meg and I grinned at each other, knowing that she had said, "Be quiet!" in French to get them confused. The girls who were taking French knew what she had said.

Madame Giry was French yet had raised Meg in America. Meg was truly a California girl, down to the blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes.

Now that everyone was effectively quieted, Madame smiled slightly and said, "I'd like to welcome you to Aria, the advanced women's ensemble. I expect much more of you than when you were in women's ensemble. I expect you to work hard so we can be the best!"

Aria was, as she had said, advanced women's ensemble. You had to audition to get in, meaning you had to be good at singing and want to sing. No more annoying bitches with attitudes who were only there to get credit. Ok, scratch that. There was one annoying girl in this choir but at least she sang. Actually, maybe that was a bad thing. Carlotta was known to have a screeching voice.

Madame Giry, continued, gesturing with her hand toward the piano, "This is Monsieur Lavonne. He is our new accompanist for the year. I expect you to show the same respect that you show me. With that said, let's start singing!"

She grabbed a large of stack of sheet music off of the piano, counting out the number of people in each row before handing a section of it to each person at the end of each row, letting it get passed down along the rows.

We each looked down at our copy, taking in the title(which was "Reuben, Reuben") and found that the whole song was in English. We also looked at the key signature to tell what key it was in, as well as the time signature.

Madame Giry commented, "I figured we could start off with an easy, fun piece. I'll give you some other simple songs to learn tomorrow."

She turned her head and nodded at Monsieur Lavonne, who began playing the opening. I found it to be bouncy and fun.

We then proceeded to sight read it, making many mistakes but still trying to sing out. (After all, "If you're going to make a mistake, don't be afraid to make it loud.")

It was a very fun tune and we enjoyed it. We spent the rest of the period working on learning it.

Before we knew it, the bell rang. The girls around us grabbed their bags and hurried out the room, glad to be out of the first day of school.

Meg and I remained seated, chatting. Suddenly, Madame Giry looked at me and asked, "Christine…may I speak with you?"

I nodded and stood, walking up to her. She looked at me kindly and said, "Christine, you truly have such a beautiful voice. I think it would be very helpful if you were to get a music tutor and strengthen your voice. I hope you'll at least consider it."

I smiled and replied, "I will, Madame."

She turned to Meg and said, "Come along, Meg! We need to get going! We can't be late for your dental appointment!"

She turned to Monsieur Lavonne and asked, "Erik, will you make sure to lock up after we leave?"

He nodded in response and Madame Giry left in a hurry with Meg, Meg waving a sad good-bye to me as she was rushed out the door. I laughed softly. Poor Meg hated going to the dentist; no matter how much older she got.

I looked over at Monsieur Lavonne, and an idea hit me.

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((Switch to Erik's P.O.V.))

From the moment I saw her through the door, she had entranced me. I had watched her the rest of the period; from the point of arguing with the choir girls, to when she was sight reading the music, to even now. I wondered if she really did have a beautiful voice as Meg and Marie claimed she did.

When I heard her laugh at poor Meg's misfortune, I couldn't help but think her laugh was very melodic and beautiful. Surely if her laugh and speaking voice were this beautiful, she must have a beautiful singing voice. I began to long to hear her singing voice, hoping that I'd be able to hear her sing by herself just so I could satisfy my curiosity.

What would it sound like? As pure as an angel's or more earthly?

It was then that she walked up to me, a bright smile on her face. Her smile was very enchanting.

Still smiling her charming smile, she reached out her right hand and said, "Monsieur Lavonne, my name is Christine Daaé. I wanted to introduce myself to you and have a chance to talk with you."

I couldn't help the smile that formed on my lips as I took her hand, shaking it as I said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Daaé. How may I help you?"

I couldn't help but notice how soft and smooth her hand was. I released her hand, allowing my hand to fall to my lap.

She grinned at me and said, "Well, I was wondering if you give music lessons. I want to be able to strengthen my voice. Do you give lessons? I'm willing to pay."

The truth of the matter was I had never given anyone a lesson. However, for her, I'd gladly make an exception.

I again smiled with my lips, saying, "Not normally but I'd be glad to help you. I think it'd be an interesting experience for me."

Her face lit up with an amazing smile, her eyebrows going up in excitement, her eyes sparkling, as she exclaimed, "Great! How much do you charge?"

I thought for a moment, trying to think of a reasonable price, trying to find one that wouldn't cost her too much money. After a moment, I replied, "Fifteen dollars a lesson."

She grinned and asked, "Really? Wow! That's great! Do you have plans right now?"

I replied, "No, I'm free. Would you like to start lessons right now?"

She nodded enthusiastically, still smiling excitedly.

I turned so I was facing the keys again and said, "We'll start with some scales and exercises."

I looked at her and said, "Don't be tense when you sing. Just stand up straight, take a deep breath and relax. If it helps, find something to focus on. A spot on the wall, or perhaps a calming image in your head."

She paused, obviously thinking of something to focus on before she said, "Ok. Got it," standing up straighter, then closing her eyes.

I began playing simple scales, starting low then going high to test her range, telling her to use the 'ah' vowel.

Her voice was truly beautiful, even on something as simple as scales. She also had an incredible range, going from a low E below middle C to an extremely high F.

I paused, and turned to her, saying, "You have a good range. You'll need to support more with your diaphragm on the high notes. Make sure to take a good, deep, low breath."

She had opened her eyes when I paused and nodded at my comments, saying, "Ok. I'll remember that."

I turned back to the keys and said, "Now, let's do some simple exercises."

I looked over at her as I began to play an easy exercise. Her eyes were closed and her face looked peaceful as she sang clearly.

After a few more exercises, I decided to end the lesson. It had already been an hour long.

I stood up carefully and said to her, "You have a great voice. I look forward to our next lesson."

She smiled and said, "So do I. Here." She held out her hand, offering me a ten-dollar bill and a five-dollar bill.

I took them with a smile and said, "Thank you. It's been a pleasure. When do you want your next lesson to be?"

She looked down thoughtfully, then looked up with a grin, asking, "Is tomorrow after school ok?"

I nodded and said, "Perfect."

She grabbed her bag off of the floor and slung it over her shoulder, putting her left arm through the other strap. Once it was settled on her back, she grinned and waved as she walked toward the door, calling out cheerfully, "See you tomorrow then!"

I nodded in reply, watching as she walked out the door, a spring in her step and that wonderful, bright smile on her face.

I picked up my bag and made sure all the lights were out before leaving the room, locking the door behind me.

As I headed out to the parking lot where my car was, I couldn't help smiling, feeling excitement for tomorrow.

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**A/N: I hope you all will be kind and review. Thank you!**


	2. The Truth

The Truth

Hello, everyone. This is an awful Christmas present for you but a liberating one for me. MERRY CHRISTMAS! lol.

I've got some things to say about this story that will probably upset you. I hope you'll take the time to read my explanation and not hate me afterward.

There's a good reason I haven't updated in so long: the flaws of this story have caught up with me, and I can't stand it anymore.

I was trying to write chapter sixty-eight when I realized that, 'Holy—! This story is a steaming pile of crap! And what the hell?! I had Christine running a week after she got home?! WHAT THE HELL?! I was sore through the middle of January at LEAST!' I realized that I didn't pay attention to her recovery (like I should have—grr!) because of the break-up/ car crash drama.

In short, I've come to realize that I'm tired of doing back flips to make up for the "hot off the press" chapters that make up this story. There's also the fact that I can't stand my "growing pains". I don't know how any of you got through it without laughing. I read through chapter one and went, "Wow…." (And not the good kind.)

I realize that this story taught me a lot of very valuable things. This story taught me what NOT to do. (Soap opera-like melodrama is a big no-no! Subtlety is much better. OCs in fanfics should be minimal and brief in nature.) For that, I'm grateful for the experience and humbled.

I'm so angry and sad at the same time. I'm so disappointed in this story. I thought it was so epic, and I loved it…until that love turned to hate when I realized what a monster it was.

Hehehe. I'm such a dork. Any guesses as to what just went through my mind?

"_The tears I might have shed for your dark fate_

_Grow cold…and turn to tears of HATE!" _

Ahem. My apologies for the randomness.

_Anyway_, that being said, I want to thank you all for sticking with this story for so long. I know that I'm the worst for doing this to you, but I aim to make it up with some EC short stories.

I am so sorry for doing this to you, but the bad outweighed the good in my opinion. Plus, I might just develop an ulcer if I stress over this story so much, and that's ridiculous. It's just a story. Writing is supposed to be fun. Now that this story has become a chore (and indeed it has), I need to evaluate things. And so, I shall be removing this story because it has become an eyesore for me on my profile page. Please don't flame me; I'm only human. As I just said, I aim to make it up to you with more POTO stories.

I hope you'll understand and even stick with me, though I understand if you won't. Thank you.

**Here is my attempt at summing up what I originally intended to happen for the rest of the story: **

My sister's car accident actually happened December 05, 2006. She was told that she wouldn't need surgery. As the month progressed, it became revealed that she DID need surgery—quite extensive surgery, at that. "I can feel the bones grinding against each other," she'd said. And so, December twenty-something, she went in to have her surgery. She needed metal plates for her ankle and pins for her leg. She'll always have them. She was released on Christmas Eve and was able to come stay with us (my mom, my younger sister, and me) for a while instead of at her apartment.

It was a long road to recovery full of frustration and tears (many, many tears). I was there with her in January for moral support when she had the staples removed from her leg. She squeezed my hand as she cried, and I almost joined her. It was months before she was able to walk again, though she went to physical therapy. It felt like even longer to her before she was able to use her settlement money to buy a new car. She called it her "Black Pearl" because of the model, the color was something like "Black Cherry," and my sister loves _Pirates_. I think there was more to it, but that's all I can remember. Hehe.

She wrote a few blogs. With her permission, I'll share a couple.

As of April 17, 2007, she said:

"When I reconstructed your ankle, I made it so that if a bomb went off, and you were blown to smithereens, your ankle would still be intact." --my doctor

I had my appointment Monday. It went well, and for the first time in four months, I was able to leave the doctor's office without crying, but that's about all I have to report. I still can't walk, but at least now he's letting me try. The next time I see him (May 31st), he expects I will walk in there, no leg brace, no crutches, so there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

On April 30th, she wrote:

When one is faced with adversity, you have two choices--you can rally and push forward, and hope that it makes a difference, or you can lay down and die.

I'm choosing the latter.

Not literally, and not forever, but figuratively, and for today. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of working so hard to walk 20 feet and then aching for hours thereafter. I'm tired of being a burden on other people. I'm tired of getting the smackdown from the universe whenever I start to think life is not so bad. I'm done; I don't wanna play anymore; I'm out.

Fuck you, universe. Let me know when you're willing to play fair again.

By May 06th, five months after her accident, she could walk in tennis shoes. I nearly cried when I watched the video—partially because of the way she smiled at the end.

So, my sister has healed beautifully, and I was planning on that for Ash, who would get all the love and support from Takuto that my sister got from her boyfriend/ fiancé. (My sister got married this past January, and I got to be a bridesmaid!) Anyway, for the end of their portion, I was planning on having Takuto propose to Ash in the Japanese garden that he took her to.

**There was going to be much growing and getting accustomed to one another on the EC front. The following is an excerpt from chapter sixty-eight, where Erik drops Christine off at home after Best of Broadway, and they're in her foyer: **

When Erik began to tenderly kiss me, I shivered from head to toe on the inside but simply smiled on the outside. I could hardly breathe. As exhilarated as I felt, I also felt rather scared of him. I was scared of the dark passion lurking beneath the surface. As gentle as he was now being, I knew that there would come a time when he'd lose his inhibitions; I knew that he would eventually consume me in the flames of his desires. When I thought of this, I got a bit cold and shivered. Before Erik could question the reason, I hid my face in his chest, nuzzling it as I laughed nervously.

"Sorry. I'm still getting used to it all, I guess."

For a brief, painful instant, I remembered the warmth of Raoul. The two were night and day. The night was alluring and magical; the day was warm and comforting. In the night, I was scared of the dark; in the day, I feared nothing yet felt a little too comfortable, perhaps even bored. There was no stimulation. I felt no motivation. My blood didn't rush through my body as it did in the night…as it did for Erik. He made every cell in my body sing. I felt as if he alone were responsible for making my spirit soar as it did when we created music together. Even now, just being close like this, my spirit stirred—something it'd never done with Raoul. It was overwhelming in a way, and I stupidly began to cry. Immediately, Erik was concerned, pushing me away so that he could touch my face.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

I laughed, the sound choked and watery. "I don't know. I can't explain it. It's just…overwhelming in a way…scary." I felt nervous about sharing my thoughts with him, but I pushed myself into it so that he wouldn't get the wrong idea. "You…You touch my soul so easily. It's a bit frightening, really. It's like…when we're together, time ceases to exist. I start to forget where I am and what I'm doing. I feel like…like my body's barely even here."

Heat filled my cheeks, and I laughed self-consciously. "I'm sorry," I apologize. "I'm rambling."

"I don't think so." His eyes urged me to continue, something he seems hesitant to say aloud.

"I…" My cheeks heated up as I admitted, "I never felt like this around Raoul."

The grin that stretched across Erik's face was…a little disturbing. It was gleeful and smug. It was as if he was jeering at Raoul with it even though Raoul was nowhere around. I made myself smile back even though I really felt like staring at him with my eyebrows raised. I ended up laughing due to nerves. Erik happily held me against him and nuzzled my hair with the good side of his face. Everything in me calmed; I relaxed into his embrace and returned it tenderly.

_I really do love him. _

I smiled, but there was still that tiny part of me that missed Raoul. My smile fell as I began to wonder if he and I could even remain friends. I hoped so with all my heart. If we couldn't be friends still, I didn't know what I would do. I sighed with a heavy heart as I pressed closer to Erik. Since the sound would undoubtedly concern him, I explained, wanting to be open with him yet not wanting to hurt him, "I hope that Raoul will stay friends with me. I mean, I understand if it's too painful for him…but he really is a great friend."

I felt the familiar sting in my eyes, but I buried my face in Erik's shirt so that the tears wouldn't surface. I'd yet to cry over the loss of Raoul. I'd been numb to it. As much as I knew I loved Erik, there was a part of me that ached for Raoul, for the loss of what we had. He really was sweet and tender—perhaps a little inconsiderate at times, but just generally a good person. He was a good person—one who cared deeply for me—and a good friend. It was probably selfish, but I didn't want to lose him completely.

_I already have, haven't I? _

The floodgates opened. I wept against Erik's chest, fully conscious of the fact that the cause of my tears made him uncomfortable. I could feel it in the way his arms loosened just a little. Withdrawing, I took a deep breath and huffed it out. I smiled weakly and uttered, "Sorry you had to see that. I guess it was a delayed reaction. I never really gave myself the opportunity to…grieve." I scrunched my nose at this; luckily, Erik seemed to understand.

"It's all right. I understand. All that matters is that you love me."

I regarded him curiously, unable to school my face. I dazedly replied, "I do love you." He softened, smiling as he caressed my face.

His words rang true, but his tone sounded strange. It was both comforting yet…commanding, in a way. It made me realize that my relationship with Erik was permanent. I knew that I wanted to be with him, but there was something intimidating about knowing that it was forever. Either we were together…or I killed any and all humanity in Erik by breaking up with him.

Suddenly, it seemed so horribly important to kiss him—on the lips—and for quite a while. Nervous, I gazed up into his eyes, getting lost in them for a moment. My stomach was in knots because I highly doubted that this kiss would be any less than soul-searing. Not only that, but I was the one initiating it. I could barely breathe. My hands gripped Erik's back as we stared into each other's eyes. I swallowed, took a deep breath, and tilted my head up. Erik lowered his but seemed hesitant to kiss me, though he'd done so earlier. I hesitantly closed the distance, letting my lips brush his before I pressed them together softly.

His lips were still foreign to me. I was in unfamiliar territory, and I was terrified. I pulled back just a little, took another breath, and dove back into the dark depths—his eyes, his kiss, his embrace. Though he was gentle, my soul shook with the quiet passion surging from his body. I withdrew, my body quivering. He kissed me again, and I felt myself go under the spell that he so easily wove around me. It was the spell that happened when he so much as looked at me. Prolonged eye contact, any sort of touch, a single musical note from him…that's all it took. Any of that, and I was his—utterly and completely.

Suddenly, I went weak at the knees. I laughed as I slumped against Erik, whose arms were the only thing keeping me on my feet. My breathing was a bit heavy, but I smiled and relaxed against him, finding the strength to stand on my feet without his aid. His arms remained around me, but they were looser. Lost in the magical haze he produced, I murmured, "I love you, Erik."

I felt his smile in my hair. He kissed my forehead and replied, "I love you, Christine."

Delicious shivers flooded me. Without warning, my body decided to break the spell: I winced at the way my scarred abdomen protested my semi-hunched position. I straightened and pressed my hand to the sore area. I could feel the surgical tape underneath my shirt. It reminded me that I'd have to go see the doctor for a final check-up.

…

And it was at this point that I thought, 'Oh, HELL!' and realized that I screwed up on the past few chapters. I went psycho and declared death on this infuriating story, which led to me writing this.

As far as their time together goes, my plans were that they'd go slowly, but Erik would begin to get braver and braver. Voice lessons would be on hold until he deemed Christine fit enough. I was planning on having a sick day for Madame Giry, leading Erik to take over conducting for the day as well as a very disgruntled choir. Hehe. I toyed with the idea of Erik saving the last few minutes to practice _"Anges Purs, Anges Radieux" _with Christine before the bell rang, thus enabling the others in the room to be blown away by her voice and progress. Hahaha.

They'd slowly get closer and closer. I imagined a scene where Erik explores Christine's body, but things didn't get much further than fingering due to the fact that Christine is still in high school at that point, and neither of them would feel right about "rushing" into it.

There was to be a trip to San Luis Obispo, a "tour" of sorts, like how some schools go to Europe. It was to be based off my trip up there and would feature me poking fun at myself for being stupid at certain points (like the hotel bathroom that I managed to turn into a swamp thanks to the way I had the shower curtain; hahaha). There would have been a (hopefully) very touching scene where Christine stood at the beach and felt at peace with the world—maybe even say something quietly to her father's spirit. That would be April because Madame Giry would play an April Fool's joke on the assembled choirs concerning someone getting in trouble and facing dire consequences—like being sent home (though not really). Not a very funny joke? My director pulled that on us; that's why.

OH, Cabaret! I'm getting nostalgic and fond at the mere memory. I was planning on having Christine sing "Someone To Watch Over Me".

I'd wrap things up with her high school graduation—and Erik introducing her to his staff at the opera house. Juliette would get the boot while Charlotte took the lead, leaving Christine as her understudy while she also went to college. I decided that Christine would sell her house and move in with Erik, much to Ayesha's displeasure. I'm not sure whose point of view it'd be from (probably Christine's), but I imagined the final portion to be something akin to:

_It was strange to think how close we had become over the course of a year. However, it was comforting to know one thing, one thing that would always put a smile on my face: We had a bond through our love of music, and no one could ever tear us apart. _

**Aww. Now I almost feel like I finished this story anyway. **

I hope this summary made you feel better about my abandonment. Please forgive me and perhaps support me as I offer up some 'Please don't kill me!' short stories for this fandom in repentance.

Originally, I tried writing a newer (better) story using the same premise (accompanist for choir), and it was beautiful…but I was STUPID and didn't save it to back-up.

Guess what happened! (That's _right_: my hard drive got fried, and I lost 37 chapters. –KH fans, fear not: I hadn't worked on my KH fics, so there was nothing new to lose at that point. By the way, y'all are gonna get bombarded with KH fics now that I've murdered this story and buried its body in the woods. Lol.)

Maybe if it had been something like _ten _chapters I might have rallied…but 37? I'm sorry, but I'm not making money off this, so it's not worth rewriting ALL THAT. Ick! I have the worst luck. …That story was so beautiful, too! I set it in Denver, and it was…it was going to be my masterpiece. ((sobs)) At least I can salvage some short stories from it. That's a nice silver lining.

You better believe that I use back-up every day now! Heh. I have a flash drive, and I save files to a disc once a week. Heh.

I love you all so much for trudging through this gargantuan mess I once called a story. I am so sorry that I couldn't get it together for you. Thank you for your unbelievable patience and support. Maybe my short stories will make up for it? If not, I guess it's goodbye.

xoxo

**Kagome-chan **


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